


Life unmasked

by Khalehla



Series: Souls on Fire [2]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: 2009 U17 boys friendship, Domestic Bliss, Family Feels, Football retirement, M/M, Modern Setting but with Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-06-04 09:24:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 3,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6652237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Khalehla/pseuds/Khalehla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short fics/drabbles revolving around the Götze-Reus family.</p><p>Companion piece to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/6071056/chapters/13915015">Beyond the masks we wear.</a></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tmrs](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tmrs/gifts).



> Not necessarily in chronological order.
> 
>  
> 
> UPDATE: A continuation of these stories can now be read at [Life in colour](http://archiveofourown.org/works/8137273/chapters/18651982)

They’ve been staring for about five minutes now, and they still hadn’t come to a consensus.

“I’m pretty sure it’s a dog,” Mario says, a confused look on his face.

“With teeth like that?” Marco asks sceptically. “I think it may be a rabbit.”

“But I don’t think rabbits have bodies like that.”

"A werewolf?"

"I don't think he knows what those are."

"A were-rabbit, then?"

They stare some more, and Mario even goes so far as to tip his head to one side and squints hard at their fridge. "Maybe we should ask my mom." 

"At least we know he wants a pet for Christmas."

"It's _April,"_ Mario points out. "He could change his mind well before then."

"I certainly hope so!" Marco says hopefully. "Because I have no idea where we're going to get a were-rabbit if he doesn't."

"Probably the internet," Mario suggests. "I'll make a calendar reminder to start looking in November."

"Make it October, maybe we can get a baby one before Halloween. Someone should be selling them at that time, right?"

"Good idea, hubby; I knew I married you for a reason."

"Life partner."

"That too."

 


	2. Chapter 2

Marco knows he shouldn’t have fallen for it, but he’d had a long day and was willing to do almost anything to get Joachim to go to sleep, and against his better judgement, he had given in and crawled into the cot with his son. Joachim's crying had quietened, but now Marco is stuck, and has been for the past twenty minutes.

Naturally, Mario thinks it’s hilarious and is also quite unsympathetic.

“You should have left him after the twenty minutes was up,” Mario smiles, standing at the foot of the cot and not making any effort at all to help.

“He wouldn’t stop crying,” Marco objects quietly, “it was the only way I could think of to settle him.”

“So how long do you plan on staying in there?”

Marco gives Mario a hard look. “If you could help me by lifting Jogi up, I could get out now?”

“Ahhh… _no_.” And Mario takes out his phone to take photos of Marco trapped in the cot with their son sprawled on top of him like a starfish.

“Mario!” Marco hisses softly. “Help!”

Laughing, quietly, Mario bends down to try to scoop the sleeping toddler up, but as soon as Joachim feels Mario’s arms under his tiny body, he clenches his fists into Marco’s shirt even tighter and starts whimpering. Mario sighs, then stops trying to pick Joachim up.

“He’s been doing that for the past twenty minutes,” Marco whispers, exasperated. He rubs their son's back soothingly. “Every time I try to lift him up he starts crying again.”

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to leave him be until he properly settles down,” Mario shrugs, then turns to leave the room.

“Mario! Mario! You can’t leave!” Marco calls softly, urgently. “Where are you going?”

“Dinner, TV, then sleep,” Mario says from the doorway, a teasing smile on his lips. “Try not wear yourself out, I’ll wait for you in bed.” He wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Marco gapes at him. “You can’t just say something like _that_ then leave me here!”

“Yeah I can,” Mario disagrees, before walking back into the room. He bends down to give Jogi a quick kiss, then turns to Marco. He places a hand on the mattress to the side of Marco’s face to brace himself, then gives the trapped man a kiss that starts off as peck on the lips but quickly turns filthier and filthier by the second.

“Goodnight,” Mario whispers as he pulls away from the now lightly panting Marco, ignoring Marco's quiet pleas not to leave. There is a grin on his face as he prepares dinner and loads up Netflix.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [this video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MLErNXIYjMg) hehe


	3. Chapter 3

"Why is my hair like _that_?" Marco asks, frowning at their fridge.

"I think Marc-André was showing him your photos when you were both back in 'Gladbach." Mario responds, amused.

"Agh, that llama haircut, what was I thinking?"

"I don't know, but I think Jogi captured it perfectly, don't you think?"

"I'm gonna kill Marc," Marco actually sounds serious.

"Hey, don't blame our friend for your poor life choices when you were younger."

"Well, you look like you have pig-tails."

Mario shrugs. "I'm not the one bothered by a four-year old's drawing."

"It's still an awful haircut - four-year old drawing, or not."

"You wanna tell your son you don't like how he drew you?"

"What?! No! That's not what I meant!"

"Good answer," Mario says, kissing Marco on the cheek lightly.

 

  


	4. Chapter 4

In fairness, Mario will admit that it was his fault to start off with. He hadn’t really checked to make sure that the tin of cocoa that he handed Joachim to play with was the one that was unopened, so when the little boy inevitably dropped the can, it jarred the lid enough to cause it to fall off, scattering cocoa powder all over the floor. Joachim had been delighted.

Because Mario was doing little chores like wiping down the benchtops and the loading the dishwasher, he hadn’t been immediately aware of what happened, and truthfully, Joachim had been throwing tantrums all day (and week, really), so having a happily gurgling toddler for once was a welcome change. It wasn’t until Marco came down from upstairs a few seconds later that he realised what happened.

“What the-!” Marco bit back his curse in surprise.

Mario quickly jerked around to see what was happening, and only managed to stop himself from swearing out loud. “ _Faaaaaaar_ out!” he exclaimed, coming around from the kitchen.

Joachim was sitting in a little pool of brown powder, happily smearing himself and the entire floor with it. Mario wanted to cry. “I didn’t realise it was opened,” he apologised as Marco went over to retrieve Joachim from the mess so they could clean up.

Naturally, as soon as Marco tried to pick him up, Joachim started screaming, stiffening his body and making himself dead weight in his father’s arms. Marco and Mario exchanged an exasperated look, before putting the thrashing toddler down. Joachim immediately stopped crying.

“It’s just a phase, it’s just a phase,” Marco muttered to himself, pinching the bridge of his nose. If phases involved a thirteen month old toddler screaming at the top of his lungs for no reason five times a day, seven days a week, then yes, it was just a phase.

“Sorry,” Mario apologised again, rubbing his eyes.

“It’s alright,” Marco sighed, pulling Mario in front of him and burying his face in his best friend’s neck, arms wrapped tightly around Mario’s waist. “He would have found something else to throw a tantrum about anyway. At least this way, he’s happy for a little bit.”

Marco was right. Cocoa covered baby and floor were a small price to pay for an hour's peace and quiet.

"Hot chocolate?" Mario offered in an attempt to lighten the mood.

Marco just pinched him.


	5. Chapter 5

Mario walks into the kitchen, pauses for about 10 seconds, and then bursts into laughter. "How long has that been going on?" he asks. 

"About 5 minutes," Marco says, grinning, "I couldn't help it, I just had to."

Mario just grins right back, gazing in adoration at their son.

Jogi is in his Dortmund onesie doing a decent impression of a caterpillar. He's on his back, bending then straightening his knees, pushing himself across the floor, a large towel underneath him so he's practically cleaning their floor as he moves himself across the room. Marco has his phone out, recording the whole thing.

"The towel was a great idea," Mario says, laying his arm around Marco's waist, trying not jostle his video taking. "We don't have to clean the floor today."

"Yvy will love this," Marco crows. "I'm sending this to the group chat." 

"Mom will probably yell at us for using her grandson as a mop," Mario points out, still grinning.

"Still worth it though."

"We should take him into the living room," Mario agrees.


	6. Chapter 6

It's the look on Nico's face that tips him off that something is wrong.

"Hey Uncle Mario, so..." the young man starts.

Mario rolls his eyes. "What did Jogi do now?" he asks.

"It's not really what he's done," Nico smiles. "It's more what he's saying..."

"He only has two words in his vocabulary," Mario points out.

"Exactly," Nico is now grinning. "And he's been using both of them _a lot_."

"Of course he is," Mario sighs, "let's go see if we can get the birthday boy to play nice."

When Mario and Nico make their way to the playground, Marco is already there, a resigned but amused look on his face. Joachim is crouching on the ground, his arms wrapped around a ball, his baby face pressed into it, bum sticking up in the air

"How's it going?" Mario asks.

"As you'd expect," Marco replies with an eye-roll. "He doesn't want to give André back the basketball. You can try if you like."

Mario gives Marco an exasperated look, then crouches down next to their son. "Jogi, you need to share, baby."

"No!" the two year-old barks, "mine."

"It's not yours, it's André's, and you need to give it back," Mario tries again.

"No!" Joachim says again, "mine."

"Alright, that's enough Jogi," Marco says, getting stern, "you need to give the ball back now."

When Joachim just grips onto the ball even tighter, Mario and Marco exchange a glance, then Marco scoops down to pick their son up. Joachim immediately starts crying, yelling "no!" and squirming in his father's arms.

"It's okay Uncle Marco," André says, looking uncomfortable when Joachim starts wailing.

"No, he needs to learn that just because 'no' and 'mine' are the only words he wants to use, that he can use them as an excuse not to share," Mario explains as Marco takes their son inside. "He'll be fine. He'll cry for a while then he'll come and give it back."

"Okay," the pre-teen says, still hesitant.

Mario is correct after all, because after 20 minutes, Marco finally comes back with an upset but repentant toddler.

"Hey baby," Mario says, pushing Joachim's hair back and giving him a kiss on the forehead.

"Papa," Joachim hiccups, "ball."

"You gonna share, now?" Mario asks gently.

"Ball," Joachim says again softly.

Marco puts their son down, and the two year-old walks over to the pre-teen slowly, then wraps his chubby arms around André legs. "Play?" he asks hopefully.

André melts a little then picks Joachim up, taking him over to the playground where the other kids are.

"So, you looking forward to next year's birthday?" Mario asks in amusement.

"About as much as a brick to the face," Marco says.

"He'll be saying a lot more than 'no' and 'mine' by then," Mario points out.

"Well at least we have that to look forward to," Marco agrees.


	7. Chapter 7

It’s almost deathly quiet when Mario comes home, and from the looks of it, Joachim is still napping, which is rather strange considering it was rare for the young boy to sleep for more than 20 minutes.

“Marco? Is Jogi still asleep?” Mario whispers quietly as Marco comes down the stairs.

Marco, who only just noticed Mario when he spoke, looks at him in surprise, then quickly bounds down, pressing the confused Mario up against the hallway wall before crashing their mouths together.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Mario pants when they break for air, “but what’s this all about?”

“I only just managed to put him down,” Marco explains, mouth trailing hot kisses along his neck, “which means we have-”

“-20 minutes before he wakes up.” Mario finishes for him, pushing his hands under Marco’s shirt and trying to chase his mouth. “Upstairs?”

“Takes too much time,” Marco disagrees, tugging at clothes and pushing Mario harder up against the wall.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” Mario moans raggedly, eyes closing when Marco manages to undo his belt to stroke him in his jeans. “Don’t stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to,” Marco says, pushing Mario’s jeans off his hips with a wicked grin, “but you need to-“

They never do find out what Mario needs to do because it is at that exact moment that they hear a young voice call out "Daddy? Daddy!”

Marco freezes in the act of sliding to his knees, Mario’s eyes snap open, and they both exclaim “Fuck!” while trying to zip up pants and re-align clothing.

“Don’t come down the stairs, baby,” Marco calls, jumping up and looking wildly at the disheveled Mario. “Wait for me up there, okay?”

A pair of small feet appear on the top step of the staircase, and Mario starts making panicking noises.

“Jogi!” Marco calls, probably a little bit too sharply. “Wait there! Remember what we talked about stairs?”

“Daddy where are you?” Jogi whimpers in distress, and Marco makes one last effort to fix himself.

“I’m coming up,” he calls, signalling Mario to stay there.

“Go!” Mario mouths silently, leaning against the wall again when Marco makes his way up the stairs. 

Just another day in a household with a demanding toddler (but he wouldn’t have it any other way).


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2009 U17 boys on holidays

The sun is warm and the wind is cool and Mario thinks there is no better feeling than being able to relax with no cares other than what to have for lunch or dinner. They’d been looking forward to this for months now, the five of them again, going on vacation with their partners and kids, and Mario’s loving the opportunity of being away and having a ready supply of playmates and baby-sitters for Joachim.

He can hear his hyperactive toddler, splashing around in the water with Bernd, Marc-André and the other kids, and he turns onto his stomach to poke Marco in the side.

“How long have the kids been with the twins? I think we need to re-apply sunscreen.”

Marco just squints at him, then turns to the others. “Do the kids need to be called back in already?”

They don’t get a response, the other two couples too far away to hear (or, more likely, they know it’s not their baby-sitting day so they don’t really care), and Marco sighs. “I guess we better call them back just in case.”

They don’t have to, though, because the two former goalies come back at that point with a giggling group of children being mock-chased by Marc-André, and Shkodran's youngest daughter in Bernd’s arms, all nearly ready for a nap after an intense couple of hours in the water.

“Hey guys! What are you doing?” Joachim asks, sitting himself in between his fathers and spreading his arms around Mario’s torso.

Mario and Marco laugh, still not used to how incredibly _adult_ Joachim sounds whenever he imitates an adult expression.

“Tired already?” Mario asks, rolling onto his back again and gently pushing the toddler’s hair back from his face.

“Daddy, can I have juice please?” Joachim asks Marco as he snuggles further into Mario.

“I think Papa was going to get some more coconuts – maybe if you ask him nicely he can get you some, too?” Marco says, a mischievous smile on his lips.

Joachim places a chubby hand on Mario’s face, pulling his best puppy-dog expression, and asks “Papa can I _please_ have coconut juice please please?”

Mario wants to sigh at Marco’s cheekiness, but gets up anyway, placing a kiss on his son’s cheek just as Joachim transfers his snuggles to Marco. “Of course baby. Do you think your other friends want some too?”

This makes Joachim perk up, and the toddler leaves Marco to run to where Yunus and his wife are re-applying sunscreen to the rest of the children, taking their orders. It makes Mario’s heart swell, not for the first time thankful that he and Marco finally had the courage to give them a chance, and from the expression on Marco’s face, Mario can tell that his soulmate is thinking the exact same thing.


	9. Interlude

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A slightly longer chapter, this time from the adults' POV.

When he was born, there was no doubt who his biological father was. Strawberry blonde, pale as a ghost and all gangly legs, Joachim was Marco Reus’ child through and through.

By the time Joachim was three, there was no denying that Joachim was also Mario Götze’s child. Without any form of prompting or encouragement, the child had become quite good at realising when would be a good time to widen his eyes in his child-like innocence, reach over to touch an adult’s face in gentle affection, use the right tone of voice to get what he wanted.

It was this particular skill that drove his fathers - and uncles, cousins, various other people responsible for his discipline - completely up the wall. Because by the time he was five, Joachim had also learnt to wield his most potent weapon when his usual avenues of emotional manipulation didn’t work - and that came in the form of one Jogi Löw, godfather and person to whom Joachim was named after. Oh, and former _Die Mannschaft_ senior trainer.

The last bit being the most important, because even after having retired from football and now adults with their own families and lives, the residual effects of years and years of a trainer-player relationship still lingered, and the default reaction to anything their former coach said was for the former football players to simply obey.

_“ter Stegen, Leno, are you sure that toy is age appropriate?”_

_“Sorry coach, we’ll exchange it for something less dangerous.”_

_“Kevin, I understand that André and Jogi are like brothers, but you can’t always let them get away with that.”_

_“I know coach, I’ll make them clean up the mess afterwards.”_

_“Marcel? It’s Marcel, correct? I just wanted to know if giving a child a t-shirt that has ‘Cocaine’ on it sends the right message.”_

_“Sorry coach, I mean Jogi, um... sir; it was just for fun - we won’t let him go out in public wearing it.”_

Yes, even Marco and Mario’s non-footballing friends had learnt very quickly who the _real_ authority-figure was to little Joachim when either of his parents or grandparents weren’t around.

It had to be said though, that despite used to wielding so much power, Jogi Löw was fair, and knew when he had to put his foot down.

_“Now mini-me, you know it’s cold outside so you have to wear the big jacket.”_

_“But it’s so heavy, opa-me! I don’t like it.”_

_“Do you want to get sick, little one?”_

_“I don’t care!”_

_“Yes, you do care and no, you don’t want to get sick, so put the jacket on please.”_

_“But opa…”_

_“Jogi, put in on please.”_

_“Yes opa…”_

“That’s really unfair,” Shkodran is saying. “I mean, it takes me nearly an hour to get all my girls dressed - Jogi just frowns at them and they listen to him.”

“That’s because _you_ all obey him,” Marcel points out, “so naturally your kids will, too.”

“That’s a good point,” Mario says, “whoever has a kid next should name them after Kloppo.”

“Or Thomas.”

"Oliver?"

“Imagine if you'd named one of the boys after Andi?” Manuel laughs at Bernd, making everyone laugh as well.

Bernd snorts. “Andi would more than likely suggest we get drug tested if we ever asked him to be godfather.”

“Or jump off a bridge,” Marc-André adds.

“I’m surprised the poor guy hasn’t already, what with everything he had to go through with the two of you,” Yunus says.

Marc and Bernd just shrug.

“If Jogi managed to survive a dozen years with all of you lot all at the same time, Andi had it easy,” Marcel says.

“We weren’t that bad,” Marco protests.

“Yes we were,” Mario disagrees, and all the other footballers agree with him.

“Well at least our kids are a lot more well-behaved than we were,” Marco concedes. 

“Marco, it’s not really that hard to be more well-behaved than us,” Kevin says, making everyone laugh again.

"True," Marco agrees with a grin.

“And by the time any of them decide they want to play football, they’ll have Miro as their coach on the national team and there’s _no way_ they’d give Miro any trouble.” Shkodran adds.

"I bet Jogi will hate that," Mario observes with a wide grin.

“Here’s to misbehaving adults and better-mannered kids,” Manuel says, raising his glass.

“Prost!” they all join in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The delightful little André is borrowed from the works of **tyskerunge** that can be read [here](http://gtwritings.tumblr.com/)


	10. Chapter 10

"How is he?" Mario whispers as he bends down to stroke Joachim's hair tenderly.

The toddler whimpers softly, then sniffles into the towel that Marco had put over his shoulder so that in case Joachim vomited again, it would be easier to clean up.

"Same," Marco sighs, rubbing his hand gently over Joachim's back and placing a kiss on the little boy's temple. "The doctor said we should have him tested for allergies, just in case it's the formula. I've booked for tomorrow."

"Can you make it?" Mario asks, taking a seat next to Marco.

"It's at 9 and my flight isn't until noon, so I should be there in the beginning at least," Marco says, drawing Mario closer to him so that he can place a kiss on his best friend's temple as well. "Sorry if I can't stay long. I wish I could but you know how-"

"Hey it's alright," Mario stops the apology by kissing him on the mouth. "It's fine. Jogi's fine. If it were really bad they'd have made us keep him at the hospital."

"I just worry," Marco admits. "I hate not being able to do anything."

"I know," Mario agrees. "Who'd have thought that having a kid could be so scary?"

They sit in silence for a few minutes, listening to Joachim's laboured breathing. "At least he doesn't have asthma," Mario whispers after a while.

"I know, right?" Marco agrees. Shkodran's eldest daughter suffered from asthma, and they still remembered how often the poor child had been admitted to hospital when it seemed she couldn't breath at all.

"You want me to take him so you can shower? Wash the vomit off you?"

"Actually yes," Marco says, gently handing Joachim over to Mario. Joachim whimpers, but settles quickly as Mario holds him close.

"Be right back," Marco whispers, giving both baby and papa another quick kiss.

Mario settles into the coach, one hand gently rubbing his son's back, eyes closed as he listens to the throbbing in his veins that is beating in time with Joachim's little heart, and he can't help but think how perfect this moment is regardless.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> \--  
> I have a [tumblr account ](https://khalehla.tumblr.com) for my writings and random ficlets. If you have a question about this or any of my other stories, come say hi :)
> 
> Disclaimer: I write **_fiction_** about real people. As far as I know, none of these events ever happened; any resemblance to any actual events are purely coincidental.  
>  \--


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